“I’m just making it clear—”
“Yes, I know,” she interrupted with an apologetic smile. “You’ve no interest in marriage. You’re only here to support Delia. And we are very grateful for that.”
There was a hint of sadness in her voice that she was clearly trying to hide. A pang of remorse shot through him.
He knew she still grieved for her husband and presenting her daughter to society without the girl’s father by their side was likely not something she’d ever imagined having to do. With Delia’s brother, the heir to the earldom, being only twelve years old, Phineas was the closest male relative of age. Though his sister had taken the reins of running her household and her late husband’s estates well in hand, there were a few responsibilities that had become his. He’d admittedly been remiss in that duty having been off-continent for most of the lasttwo years.
He may hate London society, but he loved his family and he’d made a promise to his sister. As his brother-in-law had settled a very handsome dowry on his daughter, there would likely be fortune hunters and less honorable men potentially vying for her attention. The responsibility of protecting her from such unconscionable interest was one he took seriously—no matter how much it would entrench him in the London social scene. Phin’s presence assured any hopeful suitors that, although Delia no longer had her father, she still had her uncle to protect her interests.
“But I can’t imagine why you wouldn’t wish to have a wife to keep your home while you spend all those months abroad. You’re not getting any younger, Phin,” the countess added breezily.
Forcefully reminding himself how muchhe truly loved his family, he countered, “I’m only twenty-eight.”
“You’ll bethirtyin just fifteen months. It’s your duty to marry and produce an heir. If there is one thing dear George’s untimely death has taught me, Phin, it’s that life is short and utterly unpredictable.” Her voice thickened. “Don’t hold off on what’s most important or you may find yourself running out of time.” She cleared her throat, obviously trying to dispel the emotion that had gathered there. “Besides, you can’t spend your best years in the middle of a desert or lost in some jungle somewhere.”
“I don’t get lost,” he retorted with mock affront, before admitting with a smirk, “not anymore.”
His sister rolled her eyes.
“And you really don’t want me on the dance floor if you want your ball to be a success. My dancing skills are abhorrent.”
The countess laughed at that. “Nice try, Phin, but that’s a lie. I shall let up on my harping, however. For now. You came when we needed you.” Her voice faded and the humor slipped from her eyes as her gaze stretched toward the dance floor. She added in a whisper, “Iwouldn’t have been able to do this alone.”
Phineas turned to see his niece—wearing a broad smile and flushed cheeks—being escorted back to her mother’s side by her dance partner. Nearly an exact replica of the countess, with the same golden hair, green eyes, petite stature, and sparkling manner, Delia was already proving herself to be quite popular. And rightfully so. From the day she’d been born, the girl had been charming everyone she met. Her Uncle Phin had been no exception.
Once her dance partner bowed and took his leave, the girl released a heavy breath. “Thank goodness the musicians are taking an extended break. I don’t think I could dance another step right now.”
“Be grateful, my dear,” her mother chided gently. “Dancing allows a perfect opportunity to get to know these young gentlemen better.”
“I don’t see how,” Delia replied. “Unless it’s a waltz, of course, you’re forever stepping away or twirling about your partner, making conversation tricky and cumbersome.”
“Good point.”
Maggie gave Phineas a dark look for his input before continuing to address her daughter. “There are things to be gleaned from a dance partner that do not require talking. Nuances of character you can decipher if you’re clever enough.”
Delia sighed. “Then I don’t think I’m clever enough.”
“Nonsense,” Maggie assured while Phineas held back a smile.
“All Igleanedwas whether they smelled like horses or tobacco or if they used too much pomade in their hair.”
As the countess took a deep breath and appeared to be counting in silence, Delia snuck a quick wink toward Phin. She was teasing her poor mother.
He winked back in full approval.
“Come along, then,” Maggie said, linking her arm through her daughter’s. “Since the musicians are taking a break, we shall stroll about the room. You too, Phin,” she ordered over her shoulder justwhen he thought he might get a break of his own.
They’d only made it a quarter of the way around the perimeter of the ballroom when Maggie veered sharply to one side. Peering over her head, Phin noted a gentleman near his own age standing with a stiff and unapproachable demeanor despite being surrounded by an inordinate number of ladies swathed in pastel silks coyly waving their fans.
“Heir to a dukedom,” his sister muttered quietly to Delia before they reached the gentleman.
Well, that explained the level of female interest the man inspired. And his haughty manner. No doubt, he was at the top of his sister’s list of potential matches for her daughter, as most future and present dukes would be.
“My Lord Redington, how lovely to see you this evening,” the countess said as she brought them all to a stop, gently tugging Delia to her side. “May I present my daughter, Lady Delia Foster, making her debut this season. Delia, the Marquess of Redington.”
Redington gave a proper bow as Delia curtsied before Maggie glanced back at Phineas to add, “I’m not sure if you know my brother, Viscount Waring, he’s so rarely in town.”
The two gentlemen acknowledged each other with a nod.
